


Marlene's kitchen

by Ratatosk_the_old_squirrel



Series: Wish for a happy ending [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC), Cooking, Family Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Humor, Post-Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC), Underestimated characters, Vampires and Witchers, Veit and Valka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23579665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ratatosk_the_old_squirrel/pseuds/Ratatosk_the_old_squirrel
Summary: Behind every strong man there is a great woman.  And behind every truly great Witcher there is a former spotted Wight who gives him a comfortable home.A little love and appreciation for Marlene. Heart of Corvo Bianco.~°~Each chapter is self-contained!Maybe there will be more chapters in the future, maybe not. This is mainly a question of my motivation and time.
Series: Wish for a happy ending [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640272
Comments: 22
Kudos: 38





	1. Geralt

The soft tapping of knuckles against wood made Marlene look up.  
A delighted smile spread across her face as soon as she saw Regis standing in the doorway. "Ah, my dear Regis," she said happily and wiped her hands clean with a rough cloth. "What may I do for you?", she asked and took a few steps towards the Vampire.  
Regis returned her smile and while he approached her as well, he pulled a small corked glass container out of his pocket and held it in a way that Marlene could see it.  
"I brought your order," he informed her friendly. "But do me the courtesy of telling me what you want to do with it."  
The anxious examination he gave her while he was talking didn't escape her at all. She smiled as she took the jar from him. "Don't worry, there is nothing wrong with my stomach," she told him cheerfully. "That is what you were getting at, wasn't it?"  
Regis nodded, but his frown told her that he wasn't quite convinced yet.

Marlene smiled once more and placed the glass jar on the low table which was already covered with a whole row of covered bowls and dishes.  
"I was going to cook Geralt's favourite meal today and unfortunately I found that my supply of sodium bicarbonate had run out."

Astonished, the vampire let his gaze wander through the kitchen and tried to deduce from his observations what Marlene was preparing.  
But after a moment he gave up and put one hand on his chin. "For which dish do you need sodium bicarbonate?" he finally asked the cook. "All I can think of is lye pastry, and I'm pretty sure that's not Geralt's favourite dish. To be honest, I've never known him to have anything like that. I know he enjoys your meals very much, but so far I've had the impression that his greatest pretension with his menu is that it doesn't kill him."

Giggling, Marlene gave the Vampire a loving pat on the arm. "Geralt may not have an extravagant taste, but he does appreciate decent food."  
"It wouldn't occur to me to say otherwise, my dear Marlene. Now, what dish is Geralt's favourite?"

"Fondue," she explained succinctly, and went to a shelf on the opposite side of the room.  
"Fondue?", repeated Regis a little incredulously.  
"Cheese fondue, to be exact," Marlene confirmed and took one of the big wooden cutting boards from the shelf. With one hand, she pushed some of the bowls aside to make room to put the board down. "I don't think it's even the dish itself that Geralt enjoys so much. Rather, he seems to take great pleasure in such a convivial meal."

"Well, that definitely makes sense," admitted Regis and took his hand off his chin again, hooking it into the straps of the bag instead.  
Silently, he watched as Marlene took several parchment packages out of a basket and carefully unwrapped them. The strong smell of the cheese hit him violently and irritated his sensitive nose. "This is a rather ... aromatic cheese, isn't it?" he addressed her once more.  
Again the old lady giggled, for although he had tried to use diplomatic language, his unease did not escape her.  
Instead of answering, she took a large knife from a hook on the wall and cut off a piece of the cheese. Smiling, she held it out to the Vampire. "Try a piece."  
"Oh, no. Thanks, but... ", Regis stammered quickly and waved his hands.  
But Marlene didn't give up and came a step closer. "You sure?" she asked mockingly. "Or do I have to believe that Vampires fear cheese more than garlic?"

Sighing, Regis let his shoulders droop and reached for the cheese. "All right. Not that Dandelion will hear about this and after his next ballad the farmers will start Vampire hunting with wooden stakes and wheels of cheese."  
He lifted the piece of cheese to his mouth, but it was only another inviting nod from Marlene that made him bite.  
For a moment he tense up and expected the unpleasant taste to hit him, but it didn't. In fact, the cheese turned out to be very spicy and pleasant in taste. Surprised, he put the rest of it into his mouth and this time he even took more time to chew the cheese and let its taste take effect.

"Interesting," he said after swallowing it all. "With that smell, I really expected something different."  
"Does it still bother you so much?" asked the cook with a smile. Regis stared at her in amazement. After a moment he let his gaze wander to the big chunk of cheese and frowned in surprise. "No. It was much more unpleasant before, now it's almost appetizing."

Marlene nodded at him smiling and reached for the knife again to cut the cheese into small cubes. "You have to use all your senses to really appreciate a dish or food. If you use only some of your senses, you can get the wrong impression."

Regis nodded silently and watched them for a moment as she struggled through the cheese. Suddenly he flinched in shame. "Doesn't anyone help you cook today?" he asked anxiously.  
"Barnabas-Basil is currently fetching some bottles of the new wine delivery from Belgaard. Because of its mild acidity, White Wolf goes very well with cheese. But apart from that everyone seems to be busy with his own little things. But that's all right," the old lady replied cheerfully.  
"Well, I don't have any little things to keep me busy at the moment. Can I give you a hand?"  
"If you'd like to", she replied affectionately and pointed with the knife to one of the covered bowls. "I've cooked some potatoes, but they're still too hot to peel."  
"That shouldn't be a problem for me," Regis replied, taking the cloth from the said bowl and a small knife from the cutlery box. Without batting an eyelid, he grabbed one of the hot potatoes and, with a few deft moves, peeled it and dropped it into another bowl.

"What kind of cheese is this," he asked curiously as he reached for the next potato.  
"Oh, this is Gruyere. But the fondue has equal parts of Emmental cheese in it," she explained and giggled off immediately.  
"Excuse me," she muttered as Regis gave her a questioning look. "I just had to remember that Geralt called one of his swords Emmentaler."  
"You must be joking," Regis said, but Marlene shook her head. Incredulous, the Vampire imitated the gesture, but after a moment the corners of his mouth moved away amused. "My dear friend's sense of humour sometimes produces strange results."

The sound of the door made them turn their heads at the same time.  
Marlene immediately dropped the knife and went to meet the majordomo who was lifting a heavy basket into the kitchen. "Are eight bottles enough?", the man asked.  
"More than enough. Thank you very much, Barnabas-Basil," the old lady replied kindly, taking one of the bottles from the basket.

The Majordomo nodded at her and then apparently noticed the Vampire for the first time. "Mr. Regis," he greeted him, too.  
Regis returned the polite gesture, but immediately turned back to the potatoes.  
The renewed clatter of the door announced that the Majordomo had left the room again and for a moment there was silence.  
It was not until the plop of a bottle and the gurgling of liquid that was poured out that Regis looked up again.

He watched as Marlene poured the wine into a large pot and then placed it on the fire. Next she conscientiously shovelled in the finely diced cheese.

"I was not aware that this dish should have sodium bicarbonate. But when one think about it, it seems only logical", he took the floor again. "Not even the robust stomach of a Witcher should be able to tolerate such quantities of cheese unscathed."  
Marlene gurgled approvingly. "True. This dish is more beneficial to the mind than to the body." She added a little chopped garlic to the cheese mixture, then stirred it thoroughly with a wooden spoon.

"The potatoes are ready," Regis announced. "What else can I do for you?"  
"Oh", replied the cook in surprise, and looked around quickly. She pointed to one of the top shelves. "You could give me the bottle of cherry brandy."  
Immediately the Vampire stretched, took the bottle from the shelf and handed it to her.

Interested, he looked over her shoulder, into the pot of slowly melting cheese. The soft bubbling of the viscous mass had a calming effect.  
He only retreated again when Marlene added some of the cherry brandy and a piercing cloud of alcohol steam rose.

Indignantly, he turned up his nose and clawed his fingers again at the leather straps on his shoulder. "Have you ever thought of adding some of my mandrake hooch instead of this simple brandy," he asked, and Marlene laughed. "Maybe next time." Slyly, she winked at him and pointed to the remaining bowls.

"Could you perhaps fill the side dishes into the tableware and put them on the table already. "The dinner won't be long now."  
While Marlene stirred some potato starch with cold water and mixed it with the cheese, Regis did as he was told.

He took several of the pretty porcelain bowls from the dining room and began to decant the contents of the bowls on the kitchen table.  
Most of the side dishes did not surprise him very much. Besides the potatoes he found fresh bread, meatballs and small tomatoes.  
But when he took the cloth from the last bowl, he faltered in confusion. "Marlene?", he asked irritated.  
The cook looked up from the pot, stirring incessantly and with steady movements. "Yes, my dear?"  
"Are the pickled onions also for fondue?" he asked sceptically.  
Marlene immediately put one hand over her mouth to hide her giggles. "Indeed. These are the favourites of Barnabas-Basil."  
"Pickled onions?" repeated the Vampire incredulously.  
"Well, well. My dear Mr. Regis," rebuked Marlene in a good mood and reached for the nutmeg grater. "You should try it first. In fact, it's a very interesting side dish with cheese."

Regis frowned sceptically, but shrugged indifferently. "Whatever you say. I've never been a gourmet and I rely on your judgment." He also decanted the contents of this bowl and placed the dishes with the other bowls on the tray beside him.  
"Anything else?" he asked Marlene. "Or should I prepare the table for dinner?"  
"Oh yes, please," said the old lady, and she swung her wooden spoon in his direction. "And please light the Rechaud. Just a little pepper, salt and sodium bicarbonate, and we can eat."

Regis nodded dutifully and picked up the tray, but halfway out he paused. "Geralt isn't back yet."  
Without looking up from the pot again, Marlene waved. "He'll be back soon. Trust me. You can let the others know, too."

Regis thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. Marlene's catering skills had better never be questioned.

♦

All eyes were directed to Geralt when the front door swung open and the Witcher sluggishly shuffled in. His whole posture cried the exhaustion he had to feel out into the world.  
With one hand he wiped the dripping wet hair from his face. Apparently, his daily work today was such a dirty affair that he considered it absolutely necessary to go to the bathhouse first.

"You're just in time", Marlene announced and the Witcher stopped abruptly and looked around in surprise. Apparently, he only realized at that moment that his friends were spread all over the room. But before he was able to calm down enough to say anything, Marlene already went on. "Dinner is ready. Sit down, dear."

Silently, Geralt let his gaze glide to the table and while he inspected the different bowls one after the other and finally got stuck on the big pot, his posture relaxed a little and the hint of a smile settled on his lips.  
Suddenly he lowered his eyes again and looked at the sword in his hand. Silently he lifted the obviously very dirty blade.

"I will take care of it immediately, sir," Barnabas-Basil announced, and in a few steps he was beside him to receive the silver sword.  
"Later, later, my dear Barnabas-Basil," Marlene rebuked graciously and pointed to the free chairs around the large table. "Let us eat first."  
"Yes, let's eat," Geralt sighed and took the floor for the first time since his return.

For a moment the room was filled with the scraping sounds of moving chairs and rustling clothes. And only a moment later the popping sound of a wine cork echoed through the room.

When Marlene stepped next to him to hand him a well-filled wine glass, Geralt gently took the old lady by the arm and pulled her down to him a little. He pressed a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you, Marlene."  
She lovingly returned his gaze and circled the table to her own seat, next to the Majordomo.

"And how was the job?" Ciri asked curiously and sipped her wine.  
Geralt looked up at his foster daughter who sat next to Dettlaff and had put one arm on his broad shoulder.  
"Glorious and glamorous," he replied sarcastically and rolled his eyes. Soft laughter was noticeable in her round.

"Necrophages?", Dettlaff asked smiling and Geralt confirmed it with an unhappy nod.  
Damn," Ciri spoke up again. "I had betted on a Shaelmaar.  
"Looks like I was right", the Vampire smirked and Geralt was all ears.  
"Are you betting on the monsters?", he asked in amazement.

"Well, actually, that was Valka's idea", the Vampire noticed, and all eyes turned to the Witcher who was just about to taste the wine. Puzzled, she paused and looked around, then she pointed to Veit. "His idea."  
Geralt laughed, shaking his head and turned to the man next to him. "And what do you say to your defense?"

The dark-haired Witcher gave him one of his brightest smiles and grabbed the bowl that was closest to him. With one quick movement he held it in front of Geralt's face. "Would you like... uh", he hesitated briefly and squinted at the bowl. "Potatoes?"

Again, Geralt laughed and bent over to put his forehead on Veit's shoulder. "It's good to be home again."  
"It's good to have you back", the Witcher replied and pressed a kiss on his head.

After a moment Geralt straightened up again and let his eyes wander lovingly over the present friends. He watched as small flickering flames of conversation formed around the table and a harmonious hum filled the room. Only Regis did not talk to anyone and watched him smiling.

"And what did you do today?" Geralt asked the Vampire across the tabletop.  
Regis grabbed his glass before he answered. "I learned a lot about Vampires and cheese." He cheered him with a grin.


	2. Ciri

"It would be better if you drank the elixir," Regis said sternly.  
Ciri shook her head and pulled the thick blanket even tighter around her body. "You know that I detest these potions. It will end like this too," she replied.  
Regis frowned and massaged his temple with one finger. "Of course, it will, but the elixir would speed up your healing process enormously. You are very tough, but you are no Witcher, my dear Cirilla."  
Again, Ciri shook her head, but before she could protest further, Geralt spoke. "You've been lying in bed sniffing for three days now. Can't you finally listen to Regis?"  
"This brew tastes awful," she kept moaning.  
"Of course, it does," Regis replied with a mean smile. "It's medicine and it has to taste awful. Tastefulness diminishes its effectiveness."  
Ciri frowned at the vampire. "You are enjoying this, aren't you?"

This time Regis giggled. "My dear Cirilla, I certainly have many character flaws, but gloating over the health of the people I care about is certainly not one of them. So please be kind and drink this elixir now. After all, Geralt drinks his potions without grumbling, and I assure you, they are far more ghastly."  
"No", Ciri snorted again and moved her lower lip forward.

Her defiant behaviour caused Regis to roll his eyes in amusement, but Geralt sighed and pulled his hair.  
"Ciri", he started, but was interrupted immediately when Dettlaff entered the room. "Enough now", the vampire said and unfolded another blanket he had worn under his arm.  
As he spread it over Ciri, he said: "You heard her. She does not want to take the potion, so please respect this."  
"Thank you, Dettlaff," mumbled Ciri and sneezed violently several times.

He nodded at her with a raised brow and then turned to the other men. "I will stay here and keep an eye on her. In case she needs anything. Rabea was about to join in. Apparently, Veit gave her several new storybooks and she's eager to read them to Ciri."  
All of a sudden, Ciri's triumphant expression turned into horror.

The corners of the Witcher's mouth twitched, but he remained serious, adding: "True. He brought with him five books of very romantic children's tales."  
"Five?", echoed Ciri, dumbfounded.  
Dettlaff nodded seriously. "She is determined not to leave your side today because you have been bedridden for so long. Besides, she made me promise to help her with her reading."

"Very well," Regis suddenly spoke up again. "If my services here are not required, I'd better leave. You seem to be in good hands." He turned around at once.  
"Wait, Regis", Ciri suddenly stopped him. The vampire immediately turned back to her. "Yes?"  
She hesitated slightly and looked away slightly embarrassed. "You say the elixir will let me sleep and I'll be well tomorrow for sure?"  
"Well, I cannot guarantee that you will make a full recovery, but the main symptoms should have subsided. Sleep and sweating are the best ways to get rid of a cold."  
Ciri took a quick look at Dettlaff who was already busy putting two chairs by her bed. She sighed resignedly. " So maybe I'd better take that potion after all," she finally agreed.  
"Excellent," Regis rejoiced and took the small vial from the dresser to uncork it and hand it to her. "You'll soon feel better."  
Ciri emptied the medicine in one go and then shook with nausea. "Disgusting," she murmured as she returned the vial.

A soft rumble directed her gaze to Dettlaff who had put the chairs back and was now standing beside her smiling. "Rabea will be a bit disappointed, but this is probably better. Rest now, my love."  
His smile did not escape her at all, and she squinted her eyes to look at him sinisterly while he bent over and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.  
When he stood up again and stroked her hair lovingly, a distinct grin had already settled on his face.  
"Traitor," she murmured softly and yawned widely.

Somewhere near the door, Geralt's laugh rang out softly, but before she could react, Regis' face appeared before her. "We'll let you sleep now. Rest and get well."  
As he disappeared from her sight again, he interpreted Dettlaff to follow him with a gesture of his hand.  
The vampire nodded, bent down again for another kiss, and then followed the prompt. But before Dettlaff left the room, he took the bowl from the dresser Ciri had eaten from before.  
The last thing he heard as he quietly closed the door behind him was the suspiciously steady breathing sound of Ciri.

"No bad bluff", Geralt smiled and patted Dettlaff on the shoulder appreciatively. "How did you know you could convince her with that?"  
Dettlaff shrugged. "Ciri had to read a book to Rabea just a few days ago. She did it willingly, but the rest of the evening she complained about the content. She obviously doesn't share Rabeas predilection for cheesy tales."  
"Apparently not", Regis confirmed and nodded with a smile. "Fortunately she responded immediately. Valka took Rabea to Beauclair earlier.”  
Dettlaff grinned at the others. "I know."

Geralt laughed again and went to the door, shaking his head. "I have work to do. Call me if you need anything."  
Regis nodded affirmatively at him and then turned more seriously to Dettlaff. "Cirilla will sleep for several hours. Probably until evening. She should not be disturbed. But when she wakes up, it would be good if you could persuade her to take a bath."  
"A bath?" Dettlaff asked in surprise. "Do you think that would be wise? That is exactly what this... this cold started for her."  
"She shouldn't have to bathe in an ice-cold river again either," Regis remarked, shaking his head and took a small cloth bag from his pocket. "A hot bath and the water mixed with these herbs." He pressed the bag into Dettlaff's hand and turned to walk. "And make sure she stays warm afterwards."

Dettlaff glanced back at him for a moment and then looked at his hand. There was a strong smell of thyme and sage coming from the bag.  
He shrugged once more and put it in the pocket of his coat. Then he made his way to the kitchen.

Just as he entered the cosy room, he saw that Marlene was standing with her back to him in front of a high cupboard and stretched far to reach a glass vessel. The old lady was already standing on her toes and wobbling dangerously, but her fingertips were still far from their destination.  
Startled, Dettlaff set the bowl aside and quickly approached her. "Wait, Marlene. Let me help you."

She immediately pulled back her arm and turned to him. "Oh, that's very kind of you, Dettlaff," she said and smiled gratefully at him. She took a step aside to make room for him.  
Dettlaff pointed to a glass. "This one?", he asked and took it down immediately afterwards when Marlene nodded her approval. As he handed the jar to her, he could take a quick look at its contents and grimaced in disgust.

"What's that?" he asked, suspiciously gazing at the brownish liquid and the white sediment. "And what's floating around inside?"  
Marlene giggled softly as she carried the glass to the table. "This is yeast and prunes."  
"Prunes?" he asked irritated.  
Again, the cook giggled. "Well, the yeast must come from somewhere. You take some prunes and put them in a glass of sugar water. After a few days, you'll have excellent yeast."

The vampire listened to her with interest. "What are you going to do with the yeast?"  
"Bake a cake", she announced in a good mood and pulled out the big flour sack from under the table. Dettlaff immediately rushed back in to lift it onto the table. Again, Merlene smiled gratefully and patted his arm, her eyes falling on the bowl he had brought. "How is Ciri?", she suddenly asked anxiously.  
"No real improvement yet. But Regis is confident that she will be well soon," he replied.  
Marlene nodded and walked towards the bowl. She glanced in and then frowned. "Poor thing. She ate up all the soup."

Surprised, Dettlaff lifted an eyebrow. "Isn't that good? Regis said it would be a good sign if her appetite was restored."  
"Oh, it is," Marlene replied, carrying the bowl to the sink. "But Ciri doesn't like chicken soup much. Chicken soup is exceptionally good for sick people, but it is annoying to be forced to eat something you can't enjoy. Especially if you don't feel well."  
"Then it's doubly annoying for her," Dettlaff replied. "She just had to drink one of Regis' elixirs."

Marlene giggled up again and laid a brooding hand on her chin. "Actually, I was going to bake an apple pie, but if our poor Ciri is going to suffer that much, I'd better make a cherry pie."  
A smile came over the vampire's face. "I'm sure she would be very happy about that." He thought for a moment and looked back at the heavy flour sack. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

The cook nodded with a smile and went to another cupboard from which she pulled out a large bowl. "You could help me with the flour." She glanced at his coat and then pointed at him with her finger. "You'd better take off that coat," she said with a chuckle. "Flour dust is stubborn."

~

Dettlaff had rolled up the sleeves of his tunic and slowly poured the flour from the big sack into the sieve. As it turned out, the old lady's hint had been quite justified. Although he tried to be very careful, the table and he himself were already covered with a fine layer of flour. Marlene also kept hitting the sieve with her flat hand to loosen the lumps and whirled up more flour.  
Finally, she was satisfied with the amount of sifted flour and told him to put the sack down again.

Dettlaff wrapped the cord tightly around the flour sack and pushed it back under the table. When he got up from his squat again and watched Marlene shovel sugar from a clay pot to the flour, a thought suddenly came to his mind. "Have you ever had... a cold?" he asked the woman.  
Marlene stopped in surprise and looked at him. "Of course, I have. Many times, before," she said friendly and closed the sugar bowl again.  
She put it aside and took the salt instead. "Several times in my youth and now, sadly, much more often. But I was never sick while the curse was still upon me." She smiled at him crooked. "But it was better that way. The curse was bad enough."  
Dettlaff nodded understandingly, and she threw a pinch of salt with the flour and put that can aside too. With one finger, she pointed to the basket full of eggs behind him.

When she took them from him, she asked in turn, "I guess vampires don't catch colds, do they?"  
"No," Dettlaff replied immediately. "We don't get sick at all." He hesitated a moment and watched as Marlene cracked open some eggs and added them to the flour. "I wonder how it feels?"  
"To be sick?" asked the cooks in amazement and he nodded seriously. She wiped her fingers clean on a cloth and placed a finger thoughtfully on her lips. "When you are sick, you feel weak," she began to explain hesitantly. "One often doesn't even have the strength to get up. All limbs ache, and so does the head. Bright light is very unpleasant. One feels very tired, has no appetite. The nose is runny, one has to cough and sneeze." She smiled and lifted the lid of the butter churn. "One just feel miserable."  
For a moment Dettlaff thought about her words, but then shook his head sadly. "I can't imagine it."

Marlene laughed softly and spooned the butter into the flour. "Believe me, you're not missing anything. Being sick is really not a pleasant experience. Vampires are lucky. I'm sure Ciri would agree with me right away."  
He nodded dejectedly and scratched his head thoughtfully. "I think it is quite disturbing that humans can get sick so quickly and in so many different ways. Your lives are so... fragile."

The cook put the lid back on the butter churn and tapped it firmly with one blow of her fist, then patted the vampire's arm again to calm him down. "Do not worry. Most diseases are just annoying, but not dangerous. Especially when you have a talented doctor like Regis around. Besides, Ciri is young and strong. She'll certainly be back on her feet soon."  
Dettlaff smiled at her gratefully. "Probably the prospect of cherry pie will further her recovery," he finally half-heartedly joked, and Marlene giggled. "I'm sure it will."

She took the glass with the yeast water again and shook it until the sediment had dissolved. Then she poured most of it into the flour.  
Dettlaff wrinkled his nose. The smell was not unpleasant, but the liquid really did not look very appetizing. "Why do you put yeast in your cake?"  
"The yeast makes the dough rise. "It makes it fluffier and softer. But it takes a while for it to do its work. But now everything must be kneaded well."

As she began to roll up the sleeves of her blouse on her thin arms, Dettlaff spoke up again. "Shouldn't I do that instead?" he asked.  
Again Marlene giggled and shook her head. "You may be a lot stronger than me and you'd probably finish faster, but this is a job better done by me." She pointed to his hands with a movement of her head. "You would spend the rest of the day removing the pastry from under your fingernails."  
Dettlaff also took a look at his long, sharp nails and then nodded her approval. "I guess you're right about that. Vampires are probably not cut out for this kind of work. Is there anything else I can do?"  
This time Marlene nodded. "I originally wanted to make apple pie, so I haven't got any cherries yet. Could you get some from the cellar?"  
"Of course, I can."

~

Determined, Dettlaff walked through the dining room and opened the front door, but then he suddenly flinched.

Directly in front of the door and now directly opposite him stood Geralt.  
The Witcher had stretched out an arm and had apparently been going to open the door himself.

Slowly the gaze of the Witcher glided up to him and when their eyes met Dettlaff could see a little ominous flickering in it.  
"Good", Geralt said suddenly and grabbed the vampire by the sleeve of his tunic. "Come with me."  
Despite the monosyllabic and uncompromising request, the Witcher's voice didn't sound unfriendly and Dettlaffs sighed and gave in to his fate. Without resistance he let him drag himself across the courtyard.

"And for what work did I just volunteer? I don't have much time, Marlene asked me to get her something," he said after Geralt had mercifully let go of him again and relied on him to follow on his own.  
"The delivery from the market has arrived. B.B. has apparently bought up the entire fruit and vegetable crop of Toussaint. And probably those of some surrounding states as well," the Witcher explained and unerringly made his way to the barn. "We have to get the boxes into the cellar before the midday heat makes everything wilt. Won't be long."

Dettlaff nodded silently and looked up as the big wagon came into view next to the stable. Astonished he raised an eyebrow. "I see you haven't exaggerated the size of the shipment."  
Geralt clicked his tongue and pulled the pin out of the lock of the wagon. While he was folding down the back wall, he said: "I wonder where these masses of food are always disappearing to?"

Smiling, Dettlaff pulled a stack of boxes towards him and lifted them from the loading area. "When was the last time you looked at your dining table two steps apart during a meal?" He waited briefly until the Witcher had also taken a pile of boxes, albeit a much lower one, and they made their way to the cellar.  
"That bad?", Geralt asked.  
"Bad wouldn't be the word of my choice", Dettlaff replied amused. "Impressive, is more like it. The Duchess can hardly eat better."

In front of the cellar entrance, Dettlaff slowed down his steps so that the Witcher could go ahead and guide him.  
They had barely reached the bottom of the stairs when he heard the clinking of glass vessels in which someone was stirring vigorously. That, and the softly hummed melody wafting over to them, announced Regis's presence in the alchemy laboratory.

Dettlaff had no chance to see him, because Geralt turned to the other side of the cellar and led him along the countless shelves full of bottles and barrels to the small separate area that was used for storing the food.  
The Witcher put down his boxes and instructed Dettlaff to do the same.

While they were on their way back out to get the next boxes, the vampire suddenly had a thought. "Not that I mind carrying a few boxes, but don't you have personnel for that?"  
"Sure", Geralt replied. "But I need every worker on the vines right now."  
Dettlaff nodded although he still walked behind Geralt and so he couldn't possibly see it. But it didn't seem to bother the Witcher either.

When they were back at the wagon and unloaded the next boxes Geralt suddenly stopped and scratched his head thoughtfully. "Is Ciri sleeping meanwhile?", he asked a bit worried.  
Dettlaff wobbled his head indecisively and they made their way back to the cellar. "She fell asleep as we left the room, but I don't know if she's still asleep."  
"Let's hope so," Geralt said.

The vampire nodded and they remained quiet until they were back in the cellar.  
Dettlaff put the boxes next to the previous ones. The coarse cloth that covered the contents slipped a little and revealed that the top box was filled to the brim with juicy, red cherries. "Just what I'm looking for," he murmured and picked up the box again. Then he turned to the Witcher again. "Do you still need me, or may I bring Marlene her cherries?"  
Geralt waved his hand distractedly in his direction while he rearranged the boxes. "It's okay, I'll do the last ones myself. Thanks for the help."  
Dettlaff nodded and started off again. Just before he left the room, suddenly the voice of the Witcher sounded again. "Cherry Pie?"  
Without turning around, the vampire replied, "Correct."  
"Well, maybe Ciri will be able to forgive us the medicine after all", muttered Geralt amusedly.  
  


~

When Dettlaff put the box with the cherries on the table, Marlene had finished kneading the dough, put it on a large tray and covered it with a damp cloth.  
"Should I wash them and stone them?" he asked.  
"That would be a great help to me," Marlene replied happily. "I still have to prepare the rest of the topping."

The vampire nodded and poured the cherries into the bowl of water that the cook pointed to. He stirred it around a few times with his hand and then sat down on the bench next to the table.  
Marlene handed him a small knife and he took the first cherry from the bowl. As he carefully cut it open, he said, "I never thought about how laborious it is to bake a cake." He threw the pitted halves into another bowl and took the next cherry.

"Good food always means a bit of effort," Marlene explained cheerfully and poured the contents of a metal pot into a large glass.  
The sweet smell of cream rose immediately. "But the result makes up for the effort and besides not every cake is as elaborate as this one. An apple pie is easier."

"And apple cake is the favourite of...?", Dettlaff asked amusedly.  
"Geralt and Valka," explained Marlene and whipped up some eggs in the cream. "Neither are cake-eaters, but if they do, they prefer apple pie."  
Dettlaff smiled and pushed some of the cherry pits aside to have more room to work. "You probably know everybody's favourite kind of pie, don't you?"  
"Sure, I do," Marlene replied and winked at him slyly. "You prefer peach."

Surprised, Dettlaff paused and stared stunned at the cook. "How did you...? In the time I've been here, I've only had peach pie once. How can you be so sure it's my favourite?"  
Marlene giggled out loud. "You ate eight pieces."  
"Right," Dettlaff replied embarrassed and quickly turned back to the cherries.  
She giggled to herself for a while longer, while she stirred sugar and a pinch of cinnamon into the cream.

Marlene had just cut open a vanilla pod and started to scrape out the black seeds when Dettlaff suddenly raised his head again.  
"What's your favourite variety," he asked curiously.

Marlene wiped the vanilla pulp off the knife with her finger and stirred it vigorously into the cream. "You know, I haven't been able to eat for so long. I really enjoy every kind. It'll be a while before I start preferring one special kind of food again." She looked up smiling and Dettlaff nodded understandingly. Then her gaze wandered to the bowl of cherries. "I guess that's enough now. The dough still must rise a little, but otherwise everything is ready. As soon as it is fluffy enough, I put the cherries on top and the cream. And then it can be baked."

The vampire dropped the last cherry halves in the bowl and put the knife aside. Then he got up and took the cloth that Marlene handed him to clean his hands.  
"Can I help you with anything else?" he asked.  
Marlene shook her head. "No, thank you very much. You've really been a big help, Dettlaff."

~

Fluttering, Ciri's eyes opened. She yawned vigorously and stretched.  
Only a moment later Dettlaff's worried face appeared in her field of vision. "How do you feel?"

For a moment, Ciri pondered his question, then smiled slightly. "Better. I definitely feel better."  
A smile appeared on the vampire's face. " That' s very good."

Without warning, he slid his arms under her body and lifted her up along with the blankets she was wrapped in.  
"Hey", Ciri protested. "What are you doing?"  
"Doctor's orders," Dettlaff explained succinctly and pushed the door open with his shoulder. "Regis insists that you take a bathe now."

Ciri fidgeted restlessly while Dettlaff carried her impassive first through the house and then across the courtyard to the bathhouse.  
She felt sticky because she had sweated a lot, but she didn't feel like bathing at the moment. "Am I not allowed to say anything?" she asked somewhat grumpy.  
"No," Dettlaff replied succinctly. She pouted and folded her arms under the blankets, but only provoked an amused smile from the vampire.

Again, he used his shoulder to push open the door to the bathhouse and as soon as they entered the warm room, Ciri was struck by the penetrating smell of herbs.  
"You have already prepared everything, haven't you?", she asked astonished.  
Dettlaff nodded and let her gently down on her feet.

Suddenly she noticed another, much more appealing smell besides the herbs. Curious, she let the blankets slide off her body and she walked with shaky legs to the separated area with the big tub.

Her eyes widened in astonishment when she saw that the shutters of the windows were closed but the room was bathed in pleasant light by countless candles.  
The herbal bath steamed invitingly in the big tub. And next to it stood a plate on a small table, on which there were several pieces of wonderfully fresh smelling cherry cake.  
She turned back to the vampire who stood a few steps behind her and watched her smiling with his hands crossed behind his back.  
"Marlene wishes you a speedy recovery."


	3. Barnabas-Basil

"Here is all the stuff you wanted to have from the market," Geralt announced and dropped the rough wooden box on the table, groaning. Immediately the intense aroma of strong spices flooded the cosy room.  
"Excellent", Marlene replied delightedly and quickly wiped her hands clean on her apron. She came closer to examine the contents of the box professionally.

Interested, she checked the extraordinarily colourful selection of exotic roots, tubers, and spices. "No capers?", she asked a moment later and Geralt shrugged apologetically.  
"Sorry, Marlene. I've talked to all the traders, but there are none available at the moment."  
"Well that doesn't matter, my dear," she replied cheerfully. "It'll probably do without for a while."

Geralt nodded, lost in thought. His gaze had long since wandered to the neatly stacked deck of cards that lay on the table next to the groceries.  
The corners of his mouth twitched suspiciously, but instead of saying anything about it, he suddenly reached into the box and took out something that had a certain resemblance to a huge green fir cone. "I wanted to ask you what this is? It looks a bit like a flower bud in some way," muttered the Witcher as he looked at the thing in his hand while frowning.

Marlene giggled softly. "It is a flower bud," she explained amusedly. "A thistle." As she spoke, she took a second bud from the box and went to her chopping board to cut the thick stem right at the base of the bracts.  
Geralt raised an eyebrow skeptically. "And I guess this isn't gonna be the table decoration, is it?"  
The old lady shook her head and stretched out her hand, smiling. Immediately the Witcher came closer and handed her the bud, which had also been stripped of its stem. "No, my dear," she said. "They will be boiled and eaten."

"A thistle?"

"Artichoke. That's their name," corrected Marlene. "They tasted great, at least if you appreciate a little bit harsher vegetable, and they're also extremely healthy. Very good for the liver. I'm even a little surprised you don't know them. I always thought you were very well versed in medicinal plants."

"I know that thistles are good for the liver. As a tincture, for example. But I never attended the Kaer Morhen cooking class," Geralt replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he watched his cook put the artichokes in a pot of water and add the juice of a huge lemon.  
When she finally added a spoonful of sugar, he frowned again. "I just wonder who ever thought of eating artichokes. I mean, how can I imagine that? Did someone ride across a meadow, saw the flower and decided - today is a beautiful day and I'm going to eat this thistle - or what?" He shook his head and sat down on the bench next to the table while Marlene started to laugh. Unconsciously his fingers were playing with the deck of cards.

"I can't answer that question," she said amusedly. "But there are a lot of vegetables that gave me similar thoughts. Opuntia is one of them. Really... the plant has spines. Spines, Geralt. So let's be grateful for the daring culinary pioneers who make such a taste experience possible in the first place." She put another log on the fire and then took the cast-iron pot from the stove to pour tea for both.  
She handed one of the cups to Geralt, who immediately accepted it gratefully. "It has to boil for now until the petals can be plucked off easily," she said as she sat down opposite him and clasped her own teacup with both hands.

"Speaking of cooking", Geralt said and blew over his hot tea once more. "Considering that you already cooked us plenty today, I assume that the ...artichokes aren't for us, right?"  
The old lady nodded and took a small sip of her tea. "No, they're for dear Barnabas-Basil. He's been working awfully hard these last few weeks, and since he can finally enjoy some peace and quiet tonight, I thought I'd cook his favourite dish and lose a few games of Gwent to him."

Geralt laughed softly and turned one of the cards over to reveal the faction. "Monsters?", he asked astonished. "You of all people are playing monsters?"  
Smiling, Marlene played with her cup. "I thought it was...appropriate."  
He looked at her in disbelief for a moment, then flipped the card back and put it on the deck. "And with which faction does B.B. compete with you?"  
"Oh, I always like to be surprised by him. But actually, it doesn't make any difference. He always wins anyway," she replied smiling.  
"I think so. He really is a difficult opponent", Geralt confirmed.

Marlene took a sip of tea, but when she put the cup back on the table, she gave him a sly wink. "However, I'm getting better slowly and I'm not thinking of giving up playing Gwent until I've won at least one game against him."  
Geralt nodded with a smile. "His gambling luck is really frightening. On the other hand, the man seems to have achieved the mastery in everything. Maybe except the ability to relax."

"He knows how to relax. But he takes his duties very seriously and there are certainly some everyday matters that he finds relaxing," Marlene explained with a grin and turned to the side to take a small plate of cookies from the shelf and offer them to Geralt.  
He took a cookie, but before he ate it, he leaned back on the bench and relaxed. "I hope you are right. Without B.B. I would probably ruin the winery in no time, I'm always afraid that I'm asking too much of him.”  
"I guess you're over-thinking this. Barnabas-Basil thinks highly of you and has said that he appreciates working for you. We all do," comforted the old lady.

A small smile flickered across Geralt's face. "Thank you, Marlene." Suddenly he sighed. "I still wish I could pay him more generously for his services."  
Now she laughed. "He has a good steady income, you've had his house completely renovated, since you owned Corvo Bianco no bandit dares come here anymore, and you treat him like an equal. I seriously doubt he could have any wishes left."  
Geralt nodded his head slowly and sighed once more.

Finally, he lifted his cup to his mouth but before he took a sip, he spoke again. "Tell me, if B.B. likes to eat these things so much, why haven't you ever made them before? I mean, you do make a lot of the other people's favourite dishes."  
"Oh, there is a reason for that," Marlene replied and rose from her seat again to take the big stone mortar from the shelf. "As I said before, artichokes are a bit bitter and I know very well that you don't like that very much. Besides, there are the vampires..." She giggled again when she noticed the Witcher's eyebrows arched questioningly. "I'll explain it to you later," she promised enigmatically and poured some handfuls of white and brown mustard seeds into the mortar.  
Geralt frowned in surprise, but decided to leave it at that and pointed to the mortar. "I can do it."

Marlene nodded gratefully and handed it to the Witcher, who immediately began to grind the grains into fine powder with the heavy pestle. "But you should still take B.B.'s preferences as well when you plan the meals," he picked up the subject again and looked at her harshly. "And yours too, of course."

The old lady smiled affectionately at him for a brief moment. "Even if it means eating bitter thistles now and then?"  
Geralt snorted amusedly. "Believe me, I've eaten far worse things in my life. Besides, I'd probably eat the rest of the table decorations if I knew you prepared them." He grinned broadly when he heard another happy giggle in reply and stomped on the mustard seeds a few more times. "Fine enough?" he asked immediately afterwards.  
Marlene leaned forward and checked the grinding. "Just a little finer."

He nodded and went back to work. "What do you need this for?" he asked curiously.  
"Oh, it'll be the dip for the artichokes. They are a bit boring on their own, so you dip them in strong sauces," she explained and pulled the cork out of the vinegar jug.

She poured a generous amount of it into a small pot that already contained some lukewarm water. With practiced hand movements she added a few spoons of sugar and some salt, and then immediately set about cutting a large bunch of chives into small rolls.

Geralt watched her nimble movements with a smile. It surprised him repeatedly how nimble Marlene was despite her age and even her fragile stature seemed to be no problem. The way she swung the cooking spoon was no less graceful and impressive than the movements Eskel made when he was practising his sword fighting.

"That's enough now," she suddenly said, tearing him out of his thoughts again. Immediately he knocked the remains of the mustard powder off the pestle. He lifted the mortar up and poured its contents into the pot, which the old lady held out to him, asking him to do so.  
When she turned back to the stove and stirred the powder vigorously into the vinegar-water mixture, Geralt drank the last sip of his tea and got up from the bench. Slowly he stepped beside her and watched her thoughtfully as she mixed a considerable amount of olive oil into the yellow-brown paste. "Are you happy here in Corvo Bianco, Marlene?"

The unexpected question made her wince and she stopped stirring to look directly at Geralt. For a moment she just looked at him silently, then deep wrinkles formed around her eyes as a bright smile appeared on her face. "I am very happy," she replied sincerely.

Geralt answered her smile contentedly and nodded hardly noticeably until she resumed stirring. Just as she added the chopped chives to the sauce, the door opened and the majordomo entered. He looked visibly exhausted, but as soon as he noticed the Witcher, he tightened his shoulders and looked as professional as ever. "The inventory of the wine cellar is completed, and the new barrels were toasted. Is there anything else I can do for you today, sir?" he asked stiffly as usual, and although he obviously hadn't expected to find the landlord in the kitchen, his voice showed no sign of surprise.

"Thanks, and no need, B.B. I don't want to keep you from playing Gwent," Geralt replied with a smile. "Besides, your thistles are probably cooked as well."  
"My thistles, sir?", the majordomo now asks with a slight touch of irritation and pushes his glasses a bit upwards.

Marlene giggled softly and lifted the hot, steaming artichokes out of the pot with a ladle and put them on a plate. "He was talking about this one," she explained, "and he asked why I don't prepare artichokes more often," she added with a gurgle.  
Surprised about her obvious amusement, Geralt turned to Barnabas-Basil and was astonished to discover that the corners of the man's mouth also twitched considerably.

Irritated, he raised one brow. "Okay, what's so funny?"  
His two employees exchanged another amused look, then the majordomo cleared his throat which sounded rather conspicuously like a laugh. "If I may demonstrate, sir?"

In surprise, he watched as Barnabas-Basil grabbed a petal from the bottom of the artichoke and gently plucked it. As he dipped it into the sauce, Geralt noticed that the lower part of the petal was much more fleshy than the upper part.

Finally, he put the petal into his mouth and in a flowing movement scraped the flesh off with his teeth until he only held the inedible woody rest in his hand. "Quite delicious, Marlene," he said immediately afterwards, satisfied. The cook bowed her head in delight.

Geralt shrugged helplessly. "Okay, I don't get it. Why should..." He paused in the middle of the sentence when suddenly a thought crossed his mind and slowly a broad grin formed on his face.

"Okay, now I understand," he finally said and started to laugh. He shook his head in disbelief. "Both of you are really irreplaceable. I can't imagine the problems we would have to deal with every day if you hadn't foreseen such difficulties." He paused for a moment and gurgled a few more times. "But one day there must be artichokes for all of us to eat. At least once I want to see Dettlaff and Regis trying to eat them."  
Marlene immediately joined in his laughter and even Barnabas-Basil seemed to be amused.

Still grinning, Geralt suddenly nodded at Marlene and patted Barnabas-Basil on the shoulder. "I will leave you alone now. Enjoy the evening. You really deserve it."


End file.
